


Wounds, Desires/Public and Private

by blessedharlot



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Body Piercing, Corset Piercing, Dad Wolfe, Exhibitionism, Gay dads managing the childrens kinky sex lives, Masochism, Multi, Pain, Pain Slut Morgan, Piercings, Post-Series, Public Sex, Service top Jess, Still a bit of Rome recovery, Tranced Out Morgan, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 16:44:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18525550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessedharlot/pseuds/blessedharlot
Summary: Christopher discovers the hard way that Morgan wants a corset piercing, but everyone gets a happy ending.





	Wounds, Desires/Public and Private

**Author's Note:**

> Note: The background worldbuilding here pulls from the idea of several sex clubs existing in Alexandria for hundreds of years now. No previous knowledge of them is required; I explain what you need to know.

"If you didn’t want to end up here,” Chris heard himself say, “You shouldn’t have told me about the message.”

If Chris hadn’t already recognized his lover’s slightly exasperated slouch, he probably wouldn’t have noticed Nic’s quiet sigh either, as it didn’t reach over the rattle of the carriage. But Nic’s attempts at temperance didn’t slow Chris down. 

“There was no other future that would follow from that action, as you were well aware,” Chris informed him.

“They’re two adults,” Nic said, “years over the age of consent now.” Nic was finally indulging his patronizing tone -- an irritating response to Chris’ entirely reasonable concerns.

“Which is why I’m allowing this at all,” Chris replied. “But that’s no reason for us to abandon our duty to both of them.”

“Kind of you to allow them their sex life. But strictly speaking, we have no duty to them.”

“Don’t be preposterous, Niccolo. And why are they at Canticorum in the first place? Neither one of them is terribly Catholic.”

“The best piercer is at Canticorum.”

“And how did they know where to find the best piercer?”

“I told them.”

Chris raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to let them get inferior training,” Nic grinned smugly. “I have a duty to them.”

“So you knew about this?” Chris accused.

“I knew they had interest in Morgan getting a corset piercing. I didn’t know it was planned for tonight until the message I received from Sophie, that you concede I did share with you, however imprudently.”

Chris was beginning to irritate himself with his fussing, and tried looking out the window a while and calm himself, unsure why he was feeling so off-balance. 

He was elated, of course, that after everything she’d been though, Morgan was finding delight in sexual activity. His ideal for her would be sexual activity behind closed doors, of course… though it felt quite hypocritical to admit, considering how many not-quite-private places his own sex life had traversed. 

He cared for her deeply, and if this was what she wanted, then it was what he wanted for her. He just couldn’t imagine why she would.

“Nic,” Chris said ruefully. “Her introduction to… other…”

He found himself sighing heavily.

“I don’t understand why they’d bring other people into this,” Chris admitted.

Nic was silent a moment, and reached for Christopher. Chris took Nic’s hand into both of his, and squeezed it, but kept looking out the window with a frown.

Nic said, “Maybe they want to rewrite that history you’re thinking about so heavily right now.”

Chris considered Nic’s words.

“It’s not so different than other friends of ours, is it?” Nic said. “They weren’t Obscurists. But they had... parts of their past, written on their body, that they wanted to confront on their own terms.”

Chris chewed on Nic’s words, and nodded thoughtfully.

“She’s in control this time,” Chris said, his mind wandering to other parallels, other memories. “The similarity is where the capacity for healing lies, isn’t it? Facing those memories, those stories, and manipulating them.”

Nic nodded, and pulled one of Chris’ hands to his chest.

“Yes,” Chris replied to the unasked question. “I’ve thought about it again.”

Nic’s eyes sparkled softly, but - Chris looked - Nic deliberately kept his face neutral. He wouldn’t give away any capacity Chris had for disappointing him.

“Do you think about it?” Chris asked. “Revisiting any of what we did before… before Rome?”

Nic looked down at Chris’ hand in his. He stroked it and turned it over in his hands.

“I think about giving you pleasure,” Nic replied. “Any pleasures you desire. I’ll pursue anything you want, but there’s no use in anything you don’t want. Doesn’t matter what we did before.”

Chris leaned in and pressed his lips to Nic’s -- a warm, inviting memory of every kiss they’d shared. A reminder of his home in Nic’s arms.

The carriage slowed, and came to a stop. Chris pulled away.

“Don’t distract me,” Chris said. “We’re not here for pleasure tonight.”

“Precisely,” Nic frowned dramatically. “Very serious business. No having fun.”

“You’re impossible,” Chris said calmly over his shoulder as he left the carriage.

The Canticorum was one of dozens of lineages of studied sexuality in Alexandria. Comprised of practicing Catholics, they called their private play facilities the Cloister.. and it was, of course, a completely separate campus from the cathedral where most Canticorum members attended Mass together. The Cloister was a long, low building in a warehouse district that had no other traffic this time of night on a Friday. The Canticorum’s historical focus was mystic union with the Christian Godhead… and the group naturally gathered to it a number of experts in achieving various altered states, as well as a good many, highly accomplished artisans of rare arts. Body modification was one of those arts.

When Chris and Nic played, back in the day, some of it may have been at the Cloister.

Nic approached the front door, and spun small tumblrs on its old and complicated metal lock. When he was done, engraved numbers lined up just so, and the front door opened. Chris idly wondered if Nic went searching for the current code when he’d heard of Jess and Morgan’s interests, or if he’d just never fallen out of the habit of keeping up with how to enter this place over the years. Chris thought he might have to work on getting a straight answer out of Nic later on that subject.

They entered the rich, amber lights of the front lounge, and Chris was immediately reminded how much the Cloister felt like a library. The smell of Canticorum’s extensive collection of original books and scrolls, the warm wood accents, the rooms set aside for textual study. The one thing Chris felt Scholars could almost always get right was the proper erotization of learning.

Familiar voices immediately greeted them… or to be more accurate, greeted Nic.

“Niccolo, treasure!”

“Oh my, hello handsome stranger!”

“Nic, how wonderful!”

“What a delight, Niccolo,” a nearby voice purred. “And you’ve brought your love with the delectable hair.”

“Sophie,” Nic replied. “So nice to see you.”

Nic grasped hands and distributed genuine hugs while Chris slipped away down the hall, barely giving the front lounge a glance. The Canticorum crowd was, at least, consistently one of the more polite groups when it came to charming Nic bringing his prickly lover to join him for the evening. Chris supposed there was something to be said for Christian hospitality.

But he wasn’t in the mood to talk. He had work to do.

The first step of safety assessment would be investigating the staff disbursement in the central hallway. 

The big hallway down the middle of the building was lined with many rooms, and with occasional short crosshalls that led to larger, open play spaces. Most such buildings with this layout had both general Monitors and Medica staff volunteering to patrol the hall and regularly check in on playing parties. He was pleased to quickly see two Monitors close by, and a Medica not far down the hall. Most of the rooms at this end currently had their doors closed for private play. This discouraged onlookers, though volunteer staff still stuck their head in.

The next step was finding the children and examining their plans. Chris decided to presume they were already playing -- he could scan the lounges later if he didn’t find them in a play room first. He also decided they’d be in a public space. They had plenty of room at home to do this in private; they were here to get an audience.

So, he began sidling up to gathered groups at the open room entrances to see what he found.

The first room he approached had a few small pews and an altar, with two stocky participants dressed in monk robes. Chris left and kept looking. The next room had four dark-skinned women doing… something Chris couldn’t be bothered with. Four closed doors down, one end of a crosshall had some sort of Arabian theme - panels of gauzy material obstructing his view of the dais there. Chris instantly anticipated that space’s inhabitants weren’t his reason for being here.

Another room was dominated by an iron restraint system in the center of it, which thudded into Chris’ attention like a heavy stone long before he registered any occupants in the room. He quickly shoved his way back out of the crowd at that door and purposefully stopped at a blank wall on the other side of the hall.

_It’s just a play room,_ Chris thought. _No need to make it anything else. Someone will have a great time here._ It was Chris’ prophylactic panic he felt welling up, not an actual flashback. That part of his brain that worked so hard to keep everything dangerous in its proper place, it was just a bit rattled. He was free and in control, he reminded himself. And the object in there was just a simple piece of furniture he could choose to relate to exactly how he wished. 

He repeated every favorite message of calm and control like a prayer for a minute, and nothing heavier seemed to well up this time.

He felt an instantly familiar hand on his lower back, and Nic was at his side.

“Everything alright?” Nic asked.

Chris smiled a genuine smile. “Just fine,” he said. “Haven’t found the children though.”

“Sophie said they’re further back,” Nic replied, hooking his elbow around Chris’ arm. “They wanted more space so they reserved a dais.”

“More room?” Chris frowned. “I thought they were doing a piercing. That’s two chairs worth of space.”

At that moment, a familiar, easy laugh rang like a warm bell, somewhere distant. Wherever she was, Morgan was enjoying herself.

Did that mean the scene had started, and was going well? Or was it a sign of how unsuspecting Morgan was of something that hadn't started yet? Chris needed more information as he led Nic down to find the next crosshall.

They arrived to a very significant crowd spilling out from the left side of the short hallway. 

Chris rounded the corner, moved several onlookers out of his way and found the edge of a dais, with five short steps leading up to the large platform. Standing at the center of the steps was a barrel-chested woman in the leather gear of the High Garda tradition of sexual discipline, keeping her attention on the crowd. She immediately warned him off taking another step forward, with an impressive glare and a raised arm. Chris scanned the width of the steps - as wide as the broad hallway - and saw another Medica staff on one end of the apron, protective gloves already donned. On the other end was a slender, dark skinned man that Chris vaguely recognized but couldn’t place. Both of them were watching the action on the dais.

The platform laid out in front of Chris was mostly empty, except for a circle of space significantly back from the crowd.

There, a young woman sat on a black leather bench, with her back to Chris. She had her long brown hair twisted up elegantly, showing off the pale skin of her bare back and neck. Her updo had a length of white ribbon threaded through it - the smooth silk highlighting her hair’s textured curl. She was topless, her arms relaxed and loose at her side, one hand absently stroking the bench. She wore a narrow white lace undergarment around her hips, that showed off much more than it covered.

Down her back, in two rows, were about a dozen and a half fresh piercings. 

The small silver rings glinted in the light that spilled across her back... each ring threaded through a pinch of skin. The rings aligned perfectly, clearly placed quite lovingly in a pattern still in process.

Morgan faced the back wall, but her head tilted lazily toward the right, her ear toward Jess, who hovered over her right shoulder. Shirtless, with simple dark pants and boots on, Jess deliberately sat to one side so that everyone could watch the piercing unfold across Morgan’s back. He had a table of piercing supplies nearby, and he was preparing a hollow needle and a silver ring with his gloved hands. 

Chris felt Nic’s hand on his back again. He reached back quickly for his lover and drew him close… not out of worry, Chris realized as he did it. Out of contentment. The image was deeply moving. 

Morgan could be a Renaissance portrait, imbued from within with grace and beauty... and the quickening of the blood that came with needles and flashing silver adornments only made the image more alluring. For all her earlier years spent in war zones - and the emaciating toll it sometimes took - her current comfort now showed in her new, more muscular frame, and the way her new curves shone and embellished the strength she’d always carried. Her arms were more rounded than before, her hips and thighs thicker. The lace-adorned flesh that was now carefully squirming against the shiny black leather bench as Jess inserted another ring was more *there* than it had ever been. 

If she had been his type at all - and if he weren’t overcome with fatherly feelings that were laughably incongruous with the context - Chris thought he’d be quite smitten right now. At her angle, and her distance, only the outline of the side of her breasts were visible to the crowd, the kind of tantalizing lover’s tease that would normally be right up Chris’ alley. Add to that her ever-graceful neck, her hair, and her gasps and giggles… he hoped Jess could appreciate it all. Chris had no doubt Morgan was gaining admirers tonight. 

Chris even wondered how Nic was doing with the sight. Years ago, Chris would see a woman like that at the club and presume out of hand that Nic would pursue her for play and affection.

As the thought crossed Chris’ mind, Nic pulled him back toward the crowd behind them.

“Give them their space, beloved,” Nic said. “They don’t need two old farts front and center, ruining their view of the crowd.”

Just then, Jess looked up. But it wasn’t toward them. He beckoned the gloved Medica to him, and Chris’ heart raced for a moment. It didn’t look like anything had gone wrong, so he wasn’t sure why Jess had called him.

The Medica watched closely over Jess’ shoulder as he mildly probed Morgan’s back and pointed at some of his work.

“The piercer,” Chris guessed in Nic’s direction.

“I just spoke with him,” Nic said. “Said Jess insisted on several hours more training than is usual to do this.”

Chris nodded, and let Nic lead him further back into the crowd.

“I don’t know who the other staff member is,” Nic said, looking at the other end of the steps.

“Obasi,” Chris realized as he said it. “He’s an Obscurist.”

Nic’s lips parted in a sudden realization of his own. “They’ve got wards in place. Just in case Morgan’s loses control of herself.”

“That’s why the extra space, too,” Chris said. “Clever.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Nic said with a smile. “I think my life has relied on plans Jess put less time into than this one.”

Chris let Nic do his slow and not-so-subtle draw back through the crowd, both of them slowly meandering, stopping to watch Jess and Morgan again, here and there. 

As they gained the corner that would take them back into the central hallway, Chris looked back. The piercing expert now held a spool of ribbon in his hands. Jess was on his knees, the end of the ribbon in one hand and the other hand on Morgan’s back. He spoke something over her shoulder as his fingers began oh-so-carefully smoothing the ribbon through a ring. 

Chris gave one final nod.

“I’ve seen enough,” he declared. “They’re safe. You’re right, let’s not let them see us.”

Nic gave the idea a nod and a thoughtful frown, allowing Chris the pretense that he’d just come to the clever judgment himself.

“Where to now?” Nic said.

“Home,” Chris said in a neutral voice.

Nic nodded firmly, took his hand, and they strolled back down the hallway together.

“How are you doing?” Chris asked.

“I’m fine,” Nic said offhandedly. When Chris didn’t reply, Nic shot him a curious look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, this is new territory,” Chris offered unhurriedly. “Or so it seems to me. Our children being rather sensual, in public, where we can see them. And Morgan is precisely your type. Or one of them, at any rate.”

Nic shrugged. “It’s Morgan. It doesn’t count.”

“Really?” Chris said. “Truly?”

Nic stopped and watched him. 

“Dario,” Nic said.

Chris involuntarily rolled his eyes, and understood Nic’s point perfectly. Chris had once had a bit of a crush on a young Scholar who looked remarkably like Dario, and that certainly wasn’t the only time Chris had found a stunningly beautiful man alluring. 

But Dario was… Dario.

“Point taken,” Chris said.

Chris tolerated the crowd out front - this time more vehement that he himself shake some hands before they left. Chris did his best not to be obnoxious, as he really didn’t know if he might want to return some time soon. He had no patience to oil any social wheels tonight, but he supposed he could refrain from rusting any of them further.

They stepped outside, and a carriage was already waiting to pull anyone from the crowd. Chris took it, and climbed in, but spun back around and crouched in its doorway, giving Nic his best lascivious gaze.

“Niccolo,” he said quietly, with a glimmer in his eye. “Where are your bamboo canes these days?”

Nic looked Chris up and down, and grinned.

 

 

Jess drank in the look on Morgan’s face as she goggled glassy-eyed at her reflection in the mirrors. 

White and black ribbons of silk played across three full rows of rings down her back, crisscrossing in a pattern Jess had fussed over for weeks. He was proud of how few times the ribbon twisted in over itself; he’d worked hard to keep it flat so it shimmered as much as possible in clean, straight rows.

He’d also worked hard to read her cues on how much pain she wanted, for each pull and twist of the ribbon against one ring reverberated through every ring the ribbon touched, sending her shivering through a symphony of sharp delights as he worked.

“It’s so beautiful, Jess,” she whispered. “All your practice, and your work. You made a work of art out of me.”

“You’re already a work of art,” Jess said. “I just embellished.” He felt a little like Dario all of the sudden, and worried he didn’t sound sincere. But there was no way to share his thoughts right now without some flowery language. 

Morgan didn’t seem to mind. She wore a broad smile and her eyes remained just a bit glassy. 

She began to reach an arm out to him, but midway through the gesture, she stopped and gasped. She must have felt a sharp pain from the movement that she hadn’t expected. She breathed through the pain a moment and smiled broadly again.

“Here, why don’t I come closer?” Jess offered. He crouched at her feet, and she only had to move a bit to get both of her hands on him.

“Jess, Jess,” Morgan almost chanted. “My beloved Jess.”

He put a hand to her cheek, and leaned in to carefully kiss her - a chaste peck against her feverish lips.

“Jess, have people been watching?” she asked.

“All this time,” Jess said, “a whole crowd was watching you.”

“Are they still there?” Morgan said.

“Do you want to turn around and see?”

Morgan’s head gave a tiny shake. “No. Tell me.”

Jess took her face in both hands.

“There are dozens and dozens of people behind you, watching you. People we know, and people you’ve never seen before.”

Morgan’s already heavy breath sped up as he spoke. Jess felt her warm exhalations against his face and it made him shiver.

“All of them watching this breathtakingly beautiful woman,” Jess said, “getting silk ribbons pinned to her naked back.”

“And they see you.”

“They see me, this lucky dog that gets to touch you and rub you and prick you and take you home tonight.”

Morgan looked so intoxicated and so happy, running her hands up and down Jess’ arms… grabbing him close with curled arms and a slack back, then reaching as far as she dare, stroking him with clear, vivid pain radiating through her, flushing her cheeks and eliciting the tiniest moans.

“I think some of them,” Jess leaned in and whispered, “have been waiting to see what you might do when we were done. Whether you’d turn around and show yourself off to all of them.” He bit his lip and shrugged. “Whether you’d wander around among people at the party tonight. Whether you’d choose to put any clothes on at all.”

Morgan let out a happy little gasp.

Jess kept on. “If you walked through the crowds, every bump and jostle would probably carry across all that tender skin, those raw nerves I’ve been pricking at all night. I think all these people want to know if you’d like that or not.”

Morgan’s eyes lolled back a little, and she clutched at one of his hands.

“You know what I want to do, Jess?”

He brought his lips in so that they almost brushed Morgan’s, but didn’t.

“No, I don’t!” he sighed. “What is it that you most want to do right now?”

“I want to make love with you on this bench.”

“Oh,” Jess gasped. “Oh my.”

“Right now,” she said. “All the piercings in. Will you do it? Please?”

“In front of all these people?” he whispered.

“Yes, yes in front of everyone. I want them to know who I picked. I want them to know I picked you.”

She grazed her fingers across the side of his neck as he felt his own breathing pick up.

“I want you inside me, Jess, all these ways you’ve reached inside me at once. I want to feel every one of them while everybody sees us.”

“Well,” Jess said, breathing heavily. “That seems a fine idea.”

He rose to his feet, and offered his hands. 

“Stand up,” he said.

She took his hands and stood, her breath ragged with the movement. The simple change of position was enough to pull at all the little wounds on her back. But her smile was still wide and genuine, and her mouth gaping with pleasure as she met his gaze.

Jess reached down to her hips, and hooked a finger under each side of her lace thong.

“I’m going to take off your panties,” he said, then he moved in closer to whisper. “In front of all these people.”

Morgan gasped and nodded -- a tiny movement, but a fierce one.

Jess kneeled down as he pulled the panties down her legs, dropping them straight down to her ankles. He left them there on the floor, and leaned in to kiss her bush once, before rising again.

Morgan let out a few quick breaths at his kiss, and took the hand he offered her. 

He led her to the side of the black leather bench, which she navigated without turning toward the crowd. When she’d made it to the audience-side of the bench, he pushed her one more step out toward the crowd, to make room for him.

Jess stepped in front of the bench himself, and looked out over Morgan’s shoulder. 

The crowd didn’t look any smaller at all. They were clearly wanting to see where the show went next.

Had they been at home, or if he had done any fewer punctures on her, he would probably ask her for a blow job. Someday, Jess noted, he’d like to look down and see her with such a piercing as she sucked him off.

But as a measure of safety, he decided to move directly to what she had asked for. It was certainly no hardship, he thought, as he reached to unfasten his pants and free an erection that had long been struggling to get out.

He sat down, and she followed close, standing just in front of him. From his view, she was backlit, creating the most delicious pocket of cozy shadow between them, from the lights she blocked.

Jess grinned.

“The glows are all the way up,” he said. “They can see everything you’ve got facing them right now. Colleagues, and total strangers.”

Morgan closed the distance between them even more, bringing one knee up next to his thigh with a groan of pain. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and ass to help support her as she carefully and slowly moved onto his lap.

Jess wondered for a moment if she’d need more help - she was in a kind of trance - but she quickly reached down a hand and guided his cock into her slick wetness, and soon sat with him inside her up to the hilt.

She groaned as she came to a rest on his cock.

“Ohhhh baby,” she said. “Yes.”

“That’s affirmative,” Jess said, nearly slurring as Morgan started rocking up and down just a tiny bit. She whimpered in a new way, and Jess snapped back to focus on her. 

Morgan soon found herself a rhythm where every four or five strokes, she’d arch her back a bit. This sent her whimpers into a sharper tone, as some motion of hers would stretch the skin at one ring, and the zigzags of ribbons would radiate the pull outward across her whole back. When she couldn’t manage anymore, she’d straighten herself back up. She’d stay erect, and rest, until she wanted more pain. Then, she’d lean over him a bit, pulling a different direction. 

Jess kept his left arm braced around her hips, in case she lost strength suddenly and needed the support. With his right hand, he reached up and sunk his fingers into her upswept hair. When Morgan tilted her head toward his hand, he took her lead. He pulled her head further that way until she mewled a certain pitch. He let go and she brought her head back to center. For a few strokes. And then she tilted toward his hand again.

Instead of pulling her head to the side, he pulled back this time, arching her head and back both. 

She let out a long, long moan, and her hips moved to ride him faster.

When Morgan’s moan finally died down and she had taken a few deep, ragged breaths, he reached under both her arms and pulled her in close to him, both of them sitting tall as they could. 

From there, Jess left his hands where they were, covering the outer edges of her shoulderblades. He didn’t quite reach any rings, but he knew they must be close to his fingertips. 

So he carefully, firmly, dug his fingers into the flesh they’d found.

Morgan started an open-mouthed groan as Jess slowly dragged his fingers down the pristine flesh just to either side of her piercings. She continued unabated until she was screaming, and ran out of air, and pulled in hitched breaths so she could scream some more.

He stopped his hands at her hips, gripping tight as they both reached deep, pounding into each other as Morgan gasped for air over the pain.

“Are they still there?” she half-slurred.

“Yes!” he breathed, half-chuckling. “You’re the sexiest sight I’ve ever seen, or heard, of course they’re watching you fuck me.”

“I want them to see more,” she said. “Can they see you inside me?”

“You want to show them that?”

“I want every single one of them to see me fucking you.”

“If that’s what you want, that’s what they get,” Jess said. “Here, we’ll give them a better look.”

Jess gripped her ass, stood, and quickly laid his back down on the bench. 

It was a narrow bench. It wasn’t the most supportive or comfortable position. It meant Jess’ ass hung in the air and his bent legs were doing a lot more work to hold them both up.

But Morgan pitched herself forward, planted her palms against the black leather on either side of him, and rode him with a fury he’d never seen. 

Now, every tilt of Morgan’s hips up and down showed off their coupling to the entire crowd -- Jess’ slick, raging erection sliding in and out between her folds. Her shoulders arched up - from instinct or intention, Jess couldn’t tell - and she was screaming so hard her throat was getting raw. When she punched at the leather, Jess grabbed hold of her head to keep her from arching any further, unsure if she was in control of how her back was moving.

But the look on her face was pure ecstasy, and as their eyes met, Morgan thrust herself into that certain roll of her eyes that he knew well, and Jess lost control of his own climax.

As he shivered and groaned under Morgan’s cries, Jess felt a strange and pleasant new instant of detachment too. Keeping his full attention on Morgan as he orgasmed himself split him into two full sets of senses, it seemed… one writhing in intense pleasure, and the other cradling Morgan, ecstatically attending to her every subtle need. He marked that feeling for further investigation.

For now, he mindfully shuddered back down off his high and cradled her carefully, delicately, as she came down slowly from her own peak. 

When she had caught her breath, Jess repositioned Morgan so she could rest with minimal pain - curled on her side, on the bench, faced away from the now-dispersing crowd. 

“Morgan,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m going to gently remove the ribbons.”

She whimpered affirmatively.

Jess meticulously worked to get the ribbons removed while putting minimal pressure on the rings piercing her raw skin. His goal was reduce the intensity of her sensations, not add any more. Judging by Morgan’s quiet state, he had succeeding in either not hurting her anymore, or already numbing her to any further pain.

When he’d freed the ribbons, he grabbed a towel and gave her a quick and gentle wipe-down where they’d made the most mess, then he sat where he could stroke her hair softly and wrap his presence around her head. 

“Mmm, Jess,” Morgan murmured when he curled close around her.

“I’m here, my love,” Jess said.

“Mmmm, good. Yes,” she replied.

“Do you require anything right now?”

“Just you.”

He stroked her hair quietly. He looked up at the watchful Obscurist Obasi, and nodded.

The man smiled, and nodded back, and slowly wandered off. His piercing instructor had stepped away shortly after Jess finished the piece on Morgan’s back. Per their previous conversations, Jess knew he’d have a debrief with each one later. But for now, Morgan was the priority.

“Mmmmmm,” Morgan hummed. “Dress.”

“I brought the dress,” Jess said. Together they’d found a soft, clingy, backless gown they believed would serve her well after the scene. “Let’s rest a bit more before we put it on.”

“Mmmmkay,” Morgan said sleepily. The flush in her cheeks was still bright, and the lowered lights still caught the sheen of sweat off her skin. 

Jess drank in the picture of her, so vulnerable and euphoric. Very shortly, and for the rest of the night, there would be more tasks and attention that Morgan would need and that Jess would thrill to give her. But for just right now, he sat there, arms wrapped around her shoulders, in what was now an unprepossessing quiet nook of an near empty room.

He used one thumb to make the smallest strokes on her temple, and enjoyed her soft, blissful humming.


End file.
